


Whispers of the dead

by MistyEyedCrow



Series: Misty's Complete Collection of One-shots [17]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: And that's a fact, Fear, Fear of Death, Gravedigger!Zedaph, How does one stop writing about season 6, Mostly because he's a nice chap, Reaper!Ren, Thunder and Lightning, Zedaph isn't really that scared because he isn't playing, because what's scarier than a bad omen, but ya know Ren has a scythe, demise - Freeform, dramatic Ren does scary things like creeping up on people, inspired by demise in season 6 of hermitcraft, it's just Zed doing his thing and Ren being creepy, not horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26540287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyEyedCrow/pseuds/MistyEyedCrow
Summary: "Whatever you do, never visit that graveyard at night."Zedaph had heard of all the whispers, the hushed words spoken between the living. He knew of the dangers, knew what awaited him on the other side of that portal. He could almost feel the sand trickling quietly in his own metaphorical hourglass, time quickly running out.Eyes opening at the whoosh of the portal, he looked up to see the sky darken over open graves.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Misty's Complete Collection of One-shots [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996384
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Whispers of the dead

"Whatever you do, never visit that graveyard at night."

The wind whistled gleefully past his ears, the hairs on his arm rising at every violent puff. The darkening clouds boomed menacingly with power, thundering heavily as drops of water trickled slowly to the ground. Beneath his thick cloak, the man shivered, arms coming up to wrap around his small frame tightly, shielding himself from the incessant chill.

He had a job to do, and he'd be damned if he backed out now.

His fingers wrapped themselves tighter around the cold metal handle of his lantern, the light flickering in the light drizzle. It cast long shadows that danced around in the corners of his eyes, stalking him in the darkness, as if watching his every move. He knew someone, or something, was always watching. He just had to get in and out quickly, without any hassle, before any of the dead changed their minds.

Setting the lantern down carefully in the fresh dirt, he scanned his surroundings with quick, practiced motions. If he looked carefully, he could see the lights dim in the floating mansion above, vague shapes appearing in the windows to watch him milling in their graveyard. Tucking his hood lower to hide his colourful skin beneath the black cloak, he knelt down carefully by the newest two graves, pulling his battered shovel from his belt.

Working carefully but quickly, he dug in front of the gravestones, the magically engraved words reading out the recent deaths of his closest friends. Tango and Impulse, foolish enough to join their world's newest deadly game. Digging deep until he heard the clink of his shovel hitting the new caskets, pulling dirt from around it until it was free, enough for the two inside to find their own way out.

Stepping back, wiping away the rain and sweat from his forehead, he rose silently to his feet. The rain had stopped for now, though the flashes across the landscape warned him of a second wave. He should get out of there. Picking up the lantern, he willed himself to turn around, hesitating when his gaze fell back on the headstones and the freshly dug grave. Would they be okay in the storm?

"Zedaph." His heart tripped over its own feet, tumbling into a too-fast beat of warning, of danger. Whirling around, he saw the familiar winning smile from Ren, the self-proclaimed reaper, seated casually on his own headstone, his steady hands tracing lightly around the shining scythe's blade. He never even heard a single footstep. "It's late. Why don't you just... stay the night?"

It felt like he was treading lightly in a minefield, every time he spoke to the dead. He knew they wouldn't hurt him, they were all friends after all, but he also knew they could if they wanted to. Forcing an amiable smile on his face, he straightened his posture, addressing him as he would before this whole game took over their lives. Pretending for normalcy. "No worries, Ren. I've got things to settle in my base, and I wouldn't want to intrude."

He never really knew how to address Ren anymore. Were they still friends, or was it just tolerance for those not part of the game?

Ren only hummed in response, setting his scythe gently against the rough stone before getting to his feet. His own feet itched to take him away, to run before Ren's eyes flashed with the bloodlust of the dead, before he could feel smooth metal against his throat. But he hadn't been excused, yet, and he couldn't leave the graveyard forever and leave his friends stuck six feet deep in the ground. 

He had a job to do.

Ren sighed theatrically, pulling out a familiar head from his bag and looking down at it in a sort of pity. A head that sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, fearful gaze locked with his own dead, soulless eyes. In his mind, the ghostly feeling of an anvil falling on his head made his skull itch and his fingers twitch in phantom pain. His death by Doc's hands, all for a deal with the dead, like his own life didn't matter.

"You know, it is a pity you never signed up for this game." Ren grinned widely at him, showing too many teeth at once. "I would have loved to see your demise."

Zedaph gulped unconsciously, feeling like his next words would determine his fate. The words rolled off his tongue catiously, carefully. "Well... I had to give them some chance, you know? Wouldn't want the game to be over in a day."

Ren laughed heartily, vague undertones of the friendliness that he had come to expect from the old Ren creeping into his maniacal laugh. "That is true." Ren's laughter slowed to a chuckle, black eyes piercing curiously from behind his shades. Zedaph had the faint feeling his time was running out. "You better run along now, who knows what will find you next."

Needing no other excuse, he bowed his head respectfully, before turning tail and walking briskly out of the graveyard, feeling Ren's eyes on him the whole time. His shoulders stayed tense as he quickened his pace, hands gripping the shovel tightly as he approached the skull build. He locked gazes with Ren as the familiar whoosh of the nether portal overtook him, only relaxing when it took him away from that unsettling place.

In the heat of the nether, he pushed back the hood of his cloak, feeling his heart begin to slow down now that he was out of immediate danger. The walk back to his base was mostly silent, occasionally disturbed by the creatures of the nether, his mind wandering back to his brief stint at the beginning of their current world. The time he donned the same black cloak, daring his friends to kill themselves to win his challenge. If he thought hard enough, he could understand the dead hermits a lot more than he wished he did.

Never visit the graveyard at night. It was a warning that the living whispered amongst themselves, staying away from the district like it was a curse. Like their demise was contagious.

But it didn't matter, when he was always meant to be one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> This feels so weird, like this is the first story I've written (without any previous drafts) in almost 2 months...? I would say I don't know how it got to this, but I kinda know exactly how, which is because I've been more interested in fanart than fanfiction for the last month or so ><
> 
> If any of you want to stalk for whatever reason, my twitter page is: https://twitter.com/MistyEyedCrow1 :")
> 
> But I'm quite happy with this, especially with the title! Happy, even though I realized I still can't write much beyond season 6 for some reason haha... I guess I've got to wait for more decked out/mayoral corruption/mycelium resistance/really any sheananigans to happen for inspiration to strike again! :)
> 
> I'm not going to abandon writing, just perhaps I won't be as invested as before (which already wasn't much tbh)


End file.
